


Sacrificial Lamb

by Jericho Ghost (ensanguinedsoldier)



Category: Cowboy Bebop
Genre: Drabble, F/M, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-07
Updated: 2014-10-07
Packaged: 2018-02-20 06:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2419016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ensanguinedsoldier/pseuds/Jericho%20Ghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was equal parts saviour and slayer; she was unfortunate enough to be the sacrificial lamb.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sacrificial Lamb

**Author's Note:**

> Another old fic of mine I'm transferring to AO3. This was going to be a dark/kinky smut-fic, but once the characters started talking, it went in an entirely different direction. As you can tell, I'm biased toward the darker, cruel ~~and completely unhinged~~ side of Spike.

"None of this would have happened if not for you!"  
  
His fist slams into the wall, sinking deep as the metal gives way. The sound waves seem to reverberate through his bones, shaking his fists with fiery rage. She can see it in his eyes and feel it in the hand wrapped tightly around her shoulder.  
  
His ribs are busted, his face is covered in blood, and there's a hole in the arm he's tried to shove _through_ the Bebop, but it doesn't matter. He doesn't know pain, not in the way she does. He seems to be alive only when riddled with cuts and bruises and the blood of others.  
  
She trembles at the thought, realizing all too late that she's become his sacrificial lamb. It'll be her blood which satiates the lanky demon-god tonight.  
  
 _Why are you doing this to me?_ She wants to ask, but the knot in her throat reduces it to a tiny gasp. _I didn't ask to be a hostage._  
  
She wants to reach for her gun, but she knows it would be useless. He's always been faster than her, and threatening him now would only piss him off further. (There's really no fair chance against Spiegel.)  
  
So she just looks away, focusing on the trail of blood which follows the contour of his jaw, and muses about what could never be. There's a part of her which loves him. It's an irrational, stupid part of her, but it refuses to die and she can’t deny it.   
  
Spike may be an uncaring, irritable lunkhead, but she can’t imagine life without him.  
  
It's fucked up, and she knows it. Too bad: that doesn't make her need him any less.  
  
"Spike," she whispers. "Please... Think about this."  
  
He thinks, alright. His anger may have the blood turning to acid in his veins, but he's always well aware of who (and how) he’s hurting.   
  
"I should have let them kill you," he growls, saying what he knows will cut deepest. “You’re not worth the trouble.”  
  
Her eyes glaze over, and she can no longer find a reason to calm him. She’s nothing to him - absolutely nothing.  
  
Suddenly, she doesn’t mind if he kills her.  
  
He can see it in her eyes; those unafraid of death know their own.  
  
And that's why he walks away with a sinister smirk, leaving her to suffer.


End file.
